


Through a Glass Darkly

by Nice_Valkyrie



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Choking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 13:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nice_Valkyrie/pseuds/Nice_Valkyrie
Summary: “My alchemy’s not the same as yours,” the other man said. “All I have to do is touch you.”





	Through a Glass Darkly

**Author's Note:**

> Brotherhood!Kimblee-focused. Does this count as a character study?

The other man was restless, pacing and scuffing his shoes on the hard floors of the room. When Kimblee closed his eyes, he could imagine he was in the presence of a large cat instead, patrolling the length of their shared cage.

“Zolf,” he said. “Please stop.”

Zolf’s odd golden eyes shimmered in the dim light. His voice was surprisingly soft for someone who looked so feral. “Finally going to acknowledge me?”

There was an indignation almost embarrassing in providing the attention Zolf so clearly craved, but Kimblee judged that continuing to ignore him wouldn’t be prudent. After all, there was no telling how long they would be together.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“How long are we going to keep playing this game?” said Zolf.

Perhaps forever.

“I know who—what—you are.” Zolf prowled forward. “We’re the same.”

He was skinny to the point of half-starved. Beneath his overlarge burgundy suit jacket was only a thin black shirt that hung loose over his concave belly. Uncouth; transparent. But there was something intriguing about him all the same, like a faint, delayed echo.

“We’re not,” said Kimblee.

“Of course we are. We both joined the military for the same reasons.” Zolf showed his palms, wiggling his fingers.

“There are a lot of people in that line of work.”

“But not _ours_.” Zolf showed his palms, wiggling his fingers. “We both love alchemy—though I wouldn’t say _love_ is quite the right word—”

Kimblee allowed himself the edge of a wry smile.

“And we both love—”

Whip-fast, Zolf clapped his hands together. His grin was wide and boyish.

How gauche. Zolf was little more than a rat. There was no point in attempting explanation, justification, an education. Kimblee cast his gaze away, at the dreadful bland gray walls.  “Now you’re really growing tiresome.”

“You can’t lie to me. You like getting to know someone from the inside out just as much as I do.”

“A lot of people share hobbies, too.”

“Don’t you want to look at my circles?” Zolf asked.

His voice was softer still, nearly wheedling. Kimblee’s suspicions stirred. But he let Zolf walk forward anyway, let their knees brush unnecessarily.

“They’re the same as yours, aren’t they?”

Gold and silver, sun and moon, and on corresponding hands, too. That resonance again.

“But the technique is different,” Zolf said. He leaned in, swaying a little. “I draw from the chemical makeup of the human body. All the materials are right there, the perfect cocktail to make things go boom. All I have to do…”

His eyelashes were long and delicate, his eyes molten.

“…is touch you.”

The kiss was tender for the first second. Then Zolf’s mouth opened and Kimblee tasted the crackle of alchemy. That was it, the intrigue, the poorly-restrained darkness and the power lurking just below the skin. He seized a handful of Zolf’s hair—another surprising softness—and forced his tongue deeper, seeking more of that flavor beyond the human one.

“What do you think would happen,” said Zolf, breathing a little hard, “if we tried to combine our alchemy?”

The possibilities burst to life in Kimblee’s mind, far more exciting than the demands of Zolf’s lips. Could they create a transmutation? Could they control it? Would they destroy the world, or just themselves?

Then he felt the palms pressed into his chest.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll kill you first.”

The hands slid higher, to grasp his collar and pull him deeper into the kiss. Then Kimblee felt teeth. Suddenly the hands were trying not to bring him up, but force him down. Kimblee bit back. He twisted Zolf’s wrists, wrenching him away, shoving leg against leg to unbalance him.

“You know I could do it,” Zolf hissed, scrabbling for the advantage. “Is that what you want? For me to bend you over and make you take my cock?”

Kimblee imagined it—the press of the mattress against his face, and the burning, blinding pain of too much too fast. But Zolf was weaker, little more than a thrashing animal, his words all bark. Kimblee could stifle the jolt of desire, subdue it—press it down brutally between his legs, until, like Zolf, it was on its knees.

“Be sensible now,” said Kimblee. He stroked a thumb across Zolf’s cheek; imagined a line of blood opening there instead. “You’re not the only one who can kill with a touch.”

Zolf bared his teeth. But he must have known he had been bested, because he hid them again when Kimblee dug in a warning nail, and only watched warily as Kimblee opened his pants and exposed the swell of his cock.

“Go on,” said Kimblee. “Try to convince me to let you win.”

Zolf looked up once more—and this time there was no mystery in his expression, only arrogance—and then, so quickly it was actually a surprise, his mouth had covered Kimblee’s cock, made it hot and wet, and begun rising and falling in a steady and splendid refrain.

Kimblee sighed and shifted his legs farther apart, allowing himself to relax enough to enjoy the physicality. There was nothing quite like a good, wet, sloppy sucking, and this one was all those things. The noise was lovely. It was nice to watch, too, Zolf’s lips shiny and stretched around cock. There was no sign of duress in his face beyond the slightest wrinkling of his forehead. His eyes completed the picture, sharp when they flicked up. Taunting, as if he wasn’t on his knees.

Kimblee took a handful of that lush hair. “Gorgeous. Let’s see you do your best.”

He pressed, and Zolf slid down with a choking sound. Kimblee kept him there for a few rapturous seconds, then let go.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Zolf purred, before Kimblee pushed him down again.

So there was some use to Zolf after all. He could be bent to certain purposes, could even be—he stifled an obscene moan–invaluable for some pursuits.

Zolf kept his tongue busy as he traveled up and down, firm and assured as a violinist’s bow, and Kimblee closed his eyes, the better to feel that insistent playing. What was sex, really, but a harmony of the senses: the slow crescendo, the rhythmic wetness, the rolling symphony of heat?

He came silently, biting his lip and holding Zolf down by the back of his neck. Zolf was obedient, swallowing without trying to pull away from Kimblee’s jerking hips. He even held the softening cock in his mouth after Kimblee had let him go. When he finally slid off, his mouth looked ever so slightly swollen.

“As an argument, it had its strong points,” said Kimblee.

Zolf was, of course, unsatisfied. “That wasn’t as rough as you promised.”

Kimblee did his pants back up. “Your pleasure wasn’t my primary concern.”

“Well, let’s shift our focus. It’s my turn.” Zolf got shakily to his feet, wincing, and climbed on the bed. “I’ll even be nice and lie down so the floor won’t be murder on _your_ knees.”

“What makes you think you’re getting the same thing?”

Zolf stopped in the midst of undoing his trousers. “You’re joking.”

“There’s no need for distress. Keep undressing.”

Kimblee watched dispassionately as Zolf shimmied his trousers down over his narrow hips. “As I said, you made a decent case. I think I can indulge you a little.”

Cock wasn’t terribly interesting to look at on its own, no matter how nice its shape or heft. Far more intriguing was the hitch in Zolf’s breath when Kimblee straddled a knee and bent forward, and the throatier groan when Kimblee mouthed at the skin of Zolf’s hips and stomach. He tasted nothing more than human here, at the root—heat and sweat and, vaguely, blood.

“Suck me,” Zolf hissed. “Do it.”

Kimblee frowned and pulled away. A shame about the impatience. He would have liked to examine Zolf further, prod at him like a child might a rotting squirrel with a stick.

“You’ll take what I give you,” said Kimblee, “and be grateful for it.”

Zolf’s cock was warm, and he began moaning from the first stroke. He needed relief; he needed release. Had he dreamt up this affair the instant before he instigating it, or had it been less impulsive than it seemed? How long had Zolf been hungry?

“Harder than that,” Zolf demanded, a snarl on his lips and lust in his eyes.

Kimblee’s gaze wandered down. He had always appreciated a handsome neck. Zolf’s was long and pale and unmarred by blemishes; when Kimblee licked it he discovered the pleasant rasp of fresh stubble against his tongue. He twisted his hand smoothly over the head of Zolf’s cock, felt the rumbling groan it provoked…

Zolf’s throat felt even more perfectly tender than his cock as Kimblee fit his hand around it.

“So you’re finally done being soft?” said Zolf. The knot of his vocal cords bobbed against Kimblee’s palm.

“I find myself sick of your voice,” said Kimblee.

He squeezed without further warning. The surge of lust was immediate, as if Zolf was sucking him all over again—but it was a deeper thrill than that. Zolf sucked in a thin breath, until Kimblee pressed harder and even that was cut off.

Zolf’s hands slid across the bed, fingers curling into claws. He coughed weakly. Kimblee adjusted his grip. His own fingertips were as orderly as soldiers, pressing in a hard line against the carotid artery, and his other hand stroked Zolf with the speed and precision of a practiced rifleman. It wouldn’t take long, he judged. Zolf was like a long-caged animal: any fresh air was an overwhelming excitement.

Zolf’s face had split with delight when they started, but now Kimblee watched closely as the grin dissolved. First the shallow pleasure gave way to a deeper desire, and then concern, and then, finally, taut and truer fear, shining in those golden eyes. A beautiful evolution. For a moment, Kimblee almost felt he could grasp the sinful, thrumming energy in Zolf’s heart. Then he felt a fumbling at his wrist.

“Had enough?” he murmured.

He let go, allowing Zolf one pitiful gasp before choking off his answer.

Again. Again. Give him a chance to breathe, and then savor the rush of taking it away. Kimblee was hardly paying attention to his other hand, except to surface every so often and ensure that Zolf hadn’t been finished off one way or another. The rest was the all-consuming thrill of the hunt.

Blood had rushed to Zolf’s cock and face, turning him red, and it was like Kimblee’s hands held all of Zolf’s blood, were drenched in it. He went hot with the impulse to seize Zolf’s throat with both hands; swallowed it hard, trembling with the effort as he squeezed and stroked with equal ferocity. Zolf’s thin body writhed—was he fighting? coming?—dying?—bowed up in a twisted arch and shook violently as his cock spurted white over his shirt.

Kimblee released him quickly, before the temptation to continue could gain too much ground. Zolf wheezed and then began to cough thickly, tugging his loose collar away from his neck as though it was constricting.

“God,” he finally rasped, “I thought you were going to kill me.”

There were marks on his throat. But, Kimblee knew, the imprints of his fingers would soon darken to a purple near black, garish on Zolf’s pale skin. His semen was already drying, turning transparent as it sank into the dark fabric like it had never been.

Kimblee examined Zolf’s eyes. Already, he thought, he could detect the faint but unmistakable blackness that underlay the golden irises stirring and smoldering. There could have been a harmony, but Zolf would never allow it. Animal that he was, arousal was easy, but satiation impossible, no matter how deep or often Kimblee bit. And, having given in once, he would likely forever be trying to pick Zolf out from between his teeth.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. [Antenora](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117103) is the only other fic I know of exploring this...premise. Served as something of an inspiration, too, though it's longer and is somewhat more plot- and psychology-focused, as opposed to the shameless, unadulterated porn presented here. Check it out, it's a good read.


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